If you are just tuning in, catch up here:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Tuesday morning started out like any other. Too much to do and too little time to do it in. Add to our usual chaos the stress of not knowing where half of our things were unpacked to/still packed at and needless to say it was a hectic morning. Oh yeah, and there was a 2-year-old and 4-month-old running about at our feet during it all.
While rushing to get ourselves showered and dressed, the kids dressed and fed, and everyone out the door, my husband noticed that he had missed a call from my brother Jim. It was only 6:45 in the morning so my husband commented that it must have been a pocket dial. He didn't think much of it but decided he should call him back just in case. He dialed my brother from our new master bedroom while I tried to find something to wear in our closet and the kids ran amok.
My brother answered the phone. My husband said hello and that he saw that my brother had called. Then he didn't really say much. He just listened. In between the silent pauses, my husband muttered a series of "OKs" and "Yeahs" and "Uh huhs". I then heard my husband say, "So John did that to the other guy?" And then just more general responses.
I knew something was wrong. I just had no idea how much so.
After what seems like an eternity but was most likely only a few seconds, my husband got off the phone. He looked shaky. Moreover, he looked shaken. Like he didn't know what to do.
He looked around the room as our daughter flashed in and out between her bedroom doorway and ours. He didn't know where we should have the conversation we were about to have. Because wherever it took place was a place I would never forget. And he was right.
It happened in the middle of our brand new master bedroom. Me facing our closet with the door open and the light on. Our bed stood to the left of me, made and ready for the day. A tiny dresser that didn't belong in the space but hadn't found its home in the few days since we had moved in stood to my right. Our bathroom door was open and the light was on. The ugly ceiling fan that hangs in the middle of the room was on and the lights to it were on. I hated those lights. There were a few pieces of clothing strewn about the floor at our feet. The hall door was open but the hallway light was off. Our daughter was in the doorway. Our son was still asleep in his room next door. My husband stood facing me.
Finally, when it was clear that there was no right way or place to change his wife's life forever, my husband put his hands on my shoulders and said, "Julie, your brother John got in a fight last night."
Read on:
Part Five
Part Six
